Charlie
by PenDragon133
Summary: Elven street samurai Charlie embarks on a personal quest to uncover her own lost history and claim revenge on those who've wronged her.
1. Columbia

Charlie disembarked from the VTOL in Columbia and sniffed the air. The scents of a damp jungle, with it's unique tint and unrecognized pollens, created the exotic effect that such a new place embodies. Thousands of scents, each subtly carried, each telling a story. Trees, flowers, a large feline (possibly a meta-cat), and… real tobacco.

Charlie opened her eyes and looked toward that last scent. A short man, unimpressive but for the smell, leaned against a cab. The pilot moved out behind her and gestured to the man.

"That's 32, he'll take you from here."

Charlie nodded and wordlessly made her way to the man.

"Can I buy a few of those off you?" she asked by way of a greeting.

He nodded when she pulled out several rounds of spare ammunition which he traded five of his home rolled smokes for.

"You're the one I'm here for, right?"

Charlie nodded and they took off towards town. 32, he never offered another name, talked the whole way. It was a stark contrast to the silent plane ride from Chicago. Most of what he said didn't interest her but he spoke highly of the Johnson and so the heightened nerves Charlie had been feeling since landing subsided slightly. She wasn't used to running alone and she had next to no contacts out here. Plus, Sid had set this up and who knew with that douche bag?

The city wasn't bad, nothing like Downtown Seattle, but not the CZ either. The place they were meeting was a pleasant cafe near a fountain. 32 parked the cab across the plaza, his engine idling, and pointed the Johnson out. As Charlie started to get out of the cab, the man at the cafe smiled at her, a handsome, older man in a white suit. Then, the bus slammed into him.

Charlie froze for a split second. A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind, ultimately settling on 'frag'. Then she was moving.

"Wait here," she said to the driver of the cab. _Do help this driver if he takes off with my Barrett_ , she thought, the high powered weapon still in its case. Her 'Alamo' was in hand as she jumped on the bus, searching for any clue to explain what had just happened.

The scents of car accident were consistent but for the added mixed of real Columbian coffee. The usual burnt rubber was absent, indicating a hit rather than a freak accident. The driver was dead; no obvious sign of why he'd crashed into her payday. Magic popped to mind and she was immediately reminded that that she was, as far as it mattered, totally alone. She quickly scanned the bus for anything suspicious but was rewarded only with frightened passengers and the distant wail of sirens. Swearing quietly, she hoofed it back to the car.

True to his word, 32 had stayed put despite his obvious instinct to leave. When Charlie climbed back in and said 'go', he was steady on the gas.

32 dropped her at a seedy motel and she bartered some more ammunition for a room. It smelled of insects (dead and living), piss and vomit, and excessively sweaty sex. As soon as she was inside, Charlie paused and took stock; she was out of her home turf, without a job, alone, and possibly being tracked. After all, if she wanted to take out a large predator, first step was driving it out of familiar territory. Sid.

Gambetti had set this job up and that meant he might be involved. On second thought, double crossing seemed a bit over his head. More likely he was a dupe. Either way, he'd have information.

"Sid." Her reception wasn't great but she was getting through.

"Charlie! How's the Bloodhound handling that job? I hear Columbia is beautiful, you having fun?" Bloodhound. Funny, Jazz had just called her that a week ago. Seemed to be catching on.

"My Johnson got hit by a bus."

"Your shitting me!" Sid laughed.

Charlie let the silence convey her thoughts.

"Your not shitting me?"

"…"

"Drek bra, that's some wicked drag, you got a plan?"

"Call you."

"Right, right, what exactly do you need?" _Now_ Sid was paying attention. He sounded a tad drunk but functional and focused.

"Anything you can dig up on the Johnson and who would want to hit him. Also a ride. I'm pretty exposed at the moment and I want to get back before anyone notices I'm gone." … or makes use of my under-equipped state to cross my ass off.

"I'll look into it, should have something in few hours."

"Got it." Charlie hung up and took a moment to steady herself. There wasn't a lot of evidence that anyone was hunting her, but most of the time her own prey only knew they were pursued when they took a bullet to the head. If she was under attack, then she'd make it difficult for them. She quickly changed into something more tropically appropriate; in this case a wife beater, sports bra, and cargo pants instead of thermal layers and Kevlar. The armor jacket stayed, more than a few minutes without it and her agitated state started to move towards panic.

Her rifle was the real problem. Sicne she'd had no idea what to expect on the job, she'd brought her anti-material sniper which was easily the most expensive piece of gear she owned and a memento from her last boyfriend. Given that this was Columbia, a place of poverty by all accounts, she was as much concerned for the safety of her weapon as she was for her life. Still, as long as she kept it close, things would probably be OK.

Sid's return call came in less then an hour. "Not much in the way of investigating the dead guy, but I do have a guy who could get you out the shit. Name's Storm Crow, sort of smuggler extraordinaire from the buzz on this cat. Hit him up, do what he needs, and I'll see you back in Z of C! Ya dig?"

"Thanks Sid, this makes us even."

Storm Crow was at a bar on the edge of town. He wasn't hard to spot, being the only person in the bar with the look of experience. Exchanging names wasn't necessary, Charlie sat down and they spoke quietly, never so much as glancing at each other.

"They got anything good here?" asked Charlie after a moment of silence.

"The Tequila is good, well kept secret."

Charlie nodded and waved the bartender over and makiing her order.

"Hear you need a ride," the man said after the bartender left, speaking with an accent that marked him as local.

"Hear you need a favor."

"Aztlan has been pushing on the treaty, they say it's peace, but if so I preferred the war. I want solid photographic evidence of whats been going on in Bogota: war crimes… atrocities… something they can't just brush off with a few PR reps. Handle it and call me." He slid a commcode over as he stood up to leave.

"Consider it done."

The Tequila was as good as advertised.

The trip into the warzone would require a bus as 32 was entirely unwilling to go that far. Charlie sat at the bus stop, shadows concealing her watchful eyes, until the bus arrived just before dawn. It wasn't as cramped as she'd assumed it would be, and the smells of poverty were both comforting and foreign. In the Sprawl, the scent of the dirty and hard working had been welcome, but this, like everything in this mad alien place, set her a bit on edge.

The drive through the jungle would take most of the day and though it wasn't as cramped as she'd expected, the weather was heating up enough that she had to tone back her olfactory processor, the musk of her fellow passengers being nearly overpowering. The Jungle continued to smell amazing, however. The vibrant scent of life washed over her with every breath. It was intoxicating.

Hours through the ride she had dozed a little, her mind wandering, when the smell of exhaust that didn't come from the bus hit her. She opened her eyes as the bus began to slow and glanced out the window to see a half dozen jeeps blocking the path ahead Twice that in armed figures stood around them, alert and ready. She sat quietly as one of the figures entered, had a heated conversation with the driver that she couldn't understand, and then glanced around before noticing the tall, bald elf in the back.

The man walked back to her seat, which was two from the back, passenger side, and leveled his weapon. His words weren't much use but his tone and gestures made it clear that he wanted her up and off the bus.

For a moment she thought about fighting him, one guy would be easy, punch him with her cyberarm and take his weapon, or vice versa. The problem with that plan was that she'd then be dealing with the other eleven, surrounded by terrified civilians, with nothing but a stolen weapon and her machine pistol. Of course, if she did get off the bus, he might just walk her to a firing line and her best chance at surviving would be missed. If she'd had backup, she might have gone for it, but being alone meant caution. She stood and walked off the bus.

The soldier who'd called her off the bus walked back towards his own people and again Charlie thought about running. With the Jungle as thick as it was and her training in wilderness survival, she could probably outlast them in an extended search. A moment later he came back with another soldier, which was when she noticed that this little militia was comprised of mostly older teens with mismatched weapons. Feeling a little better about her odds, Charlie put on a little more swagger in speaking to the man before her.

"What are you doing here, gringo?" asked the soldier.

"Vacation. I hear Bogota is lovely this time of year." She smiled as her attitude made the soldier double check her, noting the cybereyes with catlike pupils, the scar across her face explaining how she'd lost her real eyes, the obvious cyberarm, and the machine pistol strapped to her leg.

"Right… you heard wrong lady, its a mess."

She looked over his head at the other soldiers. "Who are you guys, exactly?"

He puffed up his chest with pride. "We are the Colombian militia, fighting Aztlan tyranny with every breath!"

"How useful, I'm here on behalf of Storm Crow to collect evidence of Aztlan war-crimes. Figure it won't be that hard to find something I can use."

He laughed humorlessly. "You right about that, gringo, but how do we know you aren't lying?"

"How about a donation? I've got a fair amount of ammo I'm not going to use."

He nodded and Charlie handed over a pair of heavy pistol clips, "Thanks gringo, don't get killed, ok?"

Charlie boarded the bus and returned to her seat as the bus started rolling. As she sat down and the trucks passed into the distance she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Not having backup was getting more and more intense.

Bogota. The war-torn waste of a city that housed the border between Colombian national territory and Aztlan Corporate turf. The place had been a war-zone for decades prior, only recently brought to a calm by the armistice. The city's violent history was obvious at a glance: bombed out buildings, trash everywhere, and huddled figures, the poster children for desolation and despair. Charlie assessed all of it in silence as the bus drove out of earshot. This would do nicely.

She'd been dropped in front of a hotel and, after exchanging a few bullets for a room key, she headed upstairs. She locked the door and braced it with a chair, then checked her rooms, weapon in hand. Sshe hadn't smelled anything wrong but if someone was hunting her specifically, they might be using some kind of scent masking.

Confident that the rooms were clear she pulled out an MRE and considered her next move. Everyone on the bus knew where she'd gotten off and would likely give her up if bribed or threatened. The rebels knew what she was doing and probably Aztlan as well from turncoats or infiltrators. Suddenly, the idea that she was being hunted became far more real. She flipped open her phone and called JoDy, an old friend and smuggler with contacts all over the place. An ARO informed her that she had no service. She stood and walked around, then went to the roof. The result was the same. She couldn't stay here. Her meal finished, she dismissed the thought of sleep, appealing though it was, and grabbed her rifle case. If the doorman saw her leave, he'd say so to anyone that asked. Better that he, or possibly they, think she was still inside.

She opened the window and slid herself and her rifle case out slowly, using her cyber arm to descend the three stories towards the alley below. Her landing was easy enough and, without a high volume of foot traffic, so was moving through the corpse of Bogota, hiding in the shadows of what was once a place of life.

A few blocks away she found what she was looking for: an abandoned school. More specifically an old gymnasium complete with ancient rolling bleachers, the perfect place to hide her rifle case while she was working. She still hated leaving the Barrett behind, but it weight would only slow her down and she couldn't afford that.

From there she hoofed it two hours to the border between West and Central Bogota. On the west side was the Aztlan community, supposedly being rebuilt. Her eyes were constantly up, aware and ready. The border was, as she'd expected, a huge wall. Security checkpoints doubtlessly held soldiers but from several blocks away she could barely make them out. A direct approach was out of the question. Instead she moved through the ruins and shadows until she was right up to the wall, then climbed to the third story of this particular burned out wreck and jumped across the wall into Aztlan territory.

Once over, Charlie again found cover and surveilled the checkpoint from that side. Six sentries, automatic rifles, frag grenades, body armor. They were ready and too big a threat to confront solo. The wall was passable if she could get up high enough, but another problem was coming to mind: sleep deprivation. She hadn't slept in almost fifty hours and was starting to feel it, her enhanced muscles pulling hard against the real thing, pushing her onward. It would be bad to be caught sleeping, but worse to nod off at the wrong moment. Since nobody knew where she was, she figured she'd be alright for a few hours. She was four blocks from the wall, third floor, and tucked in a corner before she closed her eyes and relaxed.

She was running through dense trees and brush that moved and shifted, trying to block her path. Behind her, a pack of hell-hounds howled and barked in their mad pursuit. If she could just make the clearing she'd be fine, if she could just make-

It was mere seconds before she opened them again. Light poured through broken glass and floating dust, the scent of it surrounded her and for a moment it was beautiful. Then the sound that had awoken her was made again. Footsteps. Heavy boots not hurrying but coming up the stairs. Smell matched, frequently cleaned bodies under corporate armor for most of the long sweaty day. Aztlan.

Light as a feather, Charlie darted to the window and jumped, falling easily to the ground and grunting slightly as she landed harder than she liked. The boots continued up the stairs and she moved into the next ruin, checked again that she wasn't being followed, and made her way deeper into the heart of a hostile nation.

Hours of walking brought the high Ziggurats of Aztlan into clear view. The development here was extensive, roads paved and smooth, houses whole and painted, people happy and well fed, and Charlie lurking at the edges, regarding all with a wary eye. She couldn't go in there, this wasn't what she needed for Storm Crow and she'd stick out as soon as she stood up. No, she'd gotten in to range to use her commlink and did so quickly, her contact setting her up with a local, the local refusing to meet anywhere this side of the border. Typical. She also asked him to bring a high rating commlink with a satellite connection. Never again would she be caught out like that.

Getting back over the wall was easier, her landing was witnessed by a pair of terrified children. They might have blown her cover but she gave them a protein bar and left them to gleefully devour it while she moved to meet her contact.

It took another hour to make the meet and find a place to set up. She wanted to get a look at this guy before he got a look at her, plus she wouldn't be caught out in the open if any buses were feeling homicidal. Her mind was drawn from ambush tactics by the sound of trucks and the smell of diesel fuel and Aztlan troops. Breaking from her over-watch she hurried over roofs towards an ancient Church, its stones long worn and its bells ringing out over the city. Her fears were confirmed as she crawled on her belly to the edge of her roof and took in the sight below.

Four Atzlan combat vehicles had rolled up on a crowd of frightened and sick locals and, as she watched, the troops began dragging medical personnel out of the church and throwing them into the trucks. Charlie leveled her rifle at their leader and held, her mind racing. She hated men like these and in any other situation she wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in his brain. If she fired now he'd die, the others would be left to figure out where the shot came from, the crown would panic and try to flee, the soldiers would gun them down and she'd record the atrocities she was sent to find. But innocents would die. People whose only crime was being poor. The SINless. _Her_ people. She still had the officer's head in the cross-hairs as they loaded up the last doctors, as he rounded up his troops, as he got in, and as he drove away. She swore quietly and climbed to the ground, getting a few accounts from the people. After all, first hand stories were worth having with the footage.

Her Contact was late, but he had the phone and a map. More importantly he had the location of a safe house. That he and others knew its location made it slightly less safe, but as Charlie dropped her gear in the hardened concrete room, complete with generator, bed, and rations, she felt more secure then she had since landing. She rested a few hours, going over her footage. She patched a mission report through to Storm Crow and was considering a shower when her commlink rang and revealed a face half used car salesmen and half predatory cat.

"Good afternoon," said the newcomer in a far to smooth tone. "I know what Mr 'Storm Crow' is asking you to do and I-"

Charlie hung up and grabbed her bags. Time to get the hell out of dodge.

Resetting her new commlink, she called Storm Crow. "I have it, we need to meet, they're on to me."

His response was quick, as though he'd been expecting this. He sent a location and said he'd be waiting.

Charlie double timed towards the meet, alert every step. She was close when she smelled the diesel. She was just coming into an open air market as the jeep full of troops swooped in behind her. After that, everything moved very quickly.

She took a hit off of the jazz inhaler, whipped around, and blasted the Jeeps gunner right through the head. The response within the market was instantaneous terror.

Bullets flew everywhere as she dove into a nearby building and took cover. She could hear more vehicles rolling up as well as more gunfire, not just military weaponry either, maybe cartel if she was lucky. As the Aztlaners took cover outside, she shot another through the door frame and turned to run out the back. Time slowed as she saw a small child, a hungry little thing cowering for his life, take a bullet in the chest. She snarled and ran out through the building, turned to the next structure, and ran upstairs to have a better vantage point on the Market.

Things below had turned into chaos, three more Jeeps full of troops had arrived only to be met by an angry mob dragging them down and beating on them. A mage Officer summoned up a fireball but Charlie blasted his head into so much red paste before he could throw it. Next she took down turret gunners and the sat back as the mob did the rest.

Now armed and enraged, the shoppers had become a riot, surging towards the wall and tipping another Atztlaner patrol. For a moment Charlie wanted nothing more then to join them, blast through the border and let Aztlan feel a little fear for their border. She was about to unpack her Barret when reason stepped in. These people would die. If she helped them she would join them. She had other wars to fight. She peered over the wall, watching the crowd move away. She'd be back to help with this one, sooner or later.

Storm Crow was true to his word and got her out of Colombia. She'd lost money in the long run but as she lit up a cigarette she smiled, savoring the tastre of real tobacco. She'd been stranded solo in Bogota and walked out without a scratch. The weekend would make one hell of a story.


	2. Tripping down memory lane

Charlie stalked into her dark and messy apartment, swaying a little from all the whiskey. Silk was behind her in the stairwell shouting drunken obscenities at the upstairs neighbor Larry, a crazed bug city survivor who liked to throw things at anyone he didn't like, which currently included the blond elf.

The fridge rocked forward as she pulled hard on the handle, grinding it into the floor again. It was just a matter of time before it broke through the cheap linoleum. She grabbed a couple of beers and tossed one to Silk as he entered the doorway, still yelling over his shoulder. He turned and barely managed to catch it, the shock triggering his adrenal booster as he deflected it then snatched it up before it could hit the floor.

"Fuckin— Why is everyone throwin shit at me tonight?" he asked, looking at the beer then up at Charlie with somewhat pleading annoyance. "You coulda hit me in the head."

"You mean the 'Face,' right? Don't want a dent in your only redeeming quality," Charlie grinned sloppily.

"Hey, that's not my only redeeming quality!" Silk slid along the wall as he made his way to the couch. "Need I remind you who got knocked out in Montreal? Or in the UCAS building? AND I hear you got straight wrecked on some Prototype grab last month."

"I also bitch-slapped a Shedim Master, infiltrated Aztlan solo, and tore apart a whole team of Red Samurai. And I got knocked out in the UCAS thing because I took down three special forces Jackboots with just my arm and the element of surprise".

"You did not bitchslap a Shedim," Silk replied, collapsing into a recliner they'd salvaged from a nearby building.

"Fuck yeah, I did! Princess perfume will confirm, she stuck a grenade in his chest cavity. It was fuckin bad-ass."

"No way, not buyin it."

Charlie popped open her beer and took a long swig before shrugging.

For a moment they sat in silence, their earlier conversation weighing heavily on their minds. Was this really a good idea? Would they live to regret it? Would they both survive?

"I've been thinking about settling for a while," Charlie said, still trying to keep the subject light. "Taking a break, you know? Maybe with Julio Fernandez. Hell of a man."

"Julio? Really? I'm not sure he's the type."

Charlie's grin was for a brief moment entirely predatory, her whole self resembling a powerful feline. "You'd be surprised what a good boy will do after you pin him to the bed. Besides, it's not my first time or anything."

"When? Back in the Sprawl?" He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

Charlie shook her head. "Mostly with Hellbent, back in Montreal. After the op I stayed with him for almost a month. Dipped out when he started talking about the future, mentioned his dynasty and I was out so fast you wouldn't believe."

"Not ready for kids? I think you'd make a swell mommy."

Charlie smiled at his mocking. "Fuck you. I didn't want to get out of the game. I'm the best… or fucking close. No way I'm dropping out to be a fraggin queen of some stupid theme gang in Canada."

Silk shrugged. "If I had that kind of an out, that kind of wealth offered to me… I'd—"

"Get knocked up by some medieval lord of Hell?"

"Shut up," Silk responded defensively. "I just mean that I would have gone for more money… held onto some of that wealth. We all gotta have an escape plan, ya'know?"

"No. I don't." And they both knew she was serious. Charlie would get out the shadows in a body bag, not a moment sooner.

They sat in silence for another moment. Then Charlie stood and removed her armor jacket and t-shirt. "Lets do this, give me the multi-driver."

Silk nodded and drew a toolkit from under his chair and placed it on the coffee table between them. "I'll lock up the guns, you get the thing off."

Charlie sat on the couch, focusing her drunken mind into the specifics of her cybernetic arm, popping catches and removing panels, releasing certain valves, and disconnecting cables until, with a grunt and a click, the powerful limb came free and fell onto the couch.

Silk returned to his seat with a box. He placed it next to the toolkit, moving a few empty bottles to make room. Inside was a gram ofdeepweed and four hits of zen. The plan was to mix them.

As he rolled the deepweed into the rolling paper, Silk spoke with the calm professionalism of someone who knew his trade. It was a large part of the reason Charlie was trusting him like this. "So, as I said at the bar, the Deepweed will connect you to the astral. You'll connect with life-force and mana and all that weird drek. You might perceive, it's supposed to only be mages but I've had a couple people do it who had never cast a spell in their lives. The addition of the Zen after about a minute will allow you to get into your own field and explore feelings and memories. Remember that some of it will be your perceptions and some will be subjective information. Might be hard to tell them apart. I'll be here to talk you through it." He handed her the joint.

Charlie nodded and lit the end, puffing experimentally before taking a long drag.

"Once we get into my head," she said, her voice tight as she held the smoke in her lungs, "stay clear of the Sprawl days. Neither of us wants to go down that road, especially if I'm not lucid. Or sedated. Really both."

Silk nodded and handed her an inhaler, already loaded with Zen. "Goin back to the old stuff. I can do that."

Charlie hit the Zen and leveled her catlike eyes at Silk. "On my first run I went in a submarine so deep into the lake that no light reached us. I thought the sub was going to give out on us. Crushed by water. Not how I want to go."

"You have a preferred way to die?"

"Violently. Fighting someone who's as good as I am. Point is, I kinda feel like that now, going in without a way out."

Charlie's vision exploded. Shapes began to pop and swim through her vision. She heard herself hiss through her teeth, as though releasing pressure. Silk's voice came to her as if from miles away.

"It's starting. I want you to think back to a time when you felt nothing. Go back to the lab. Think about Alpha, Bravo… Delta. The scientists." Silk hit a button on his commlink and Charlie's 'cybernose' began to feed her the scent of a clinic, sterile and filled with chemicals… a hint of blood and bile. Metal and wiring… a cyberclinic.

Charlie snarled. She could see faces, hard to define with so much light in her eyes. They were cutting her. She wanted to cut back. Her training wouldn't work. Her limbs wouldn't obey. Why had she been trained to fight if she couldn't protect herself?

"What are you seeing?"

"The science teams that worked on me. I'm in surgery, they're implanting things in me, putting in needles all over my body, into my bones. It hurts a lot but I can't fight them."

Silk's voice was soothing but firm, "They paralyzed you, nothing to do about it now. Focus on their faces, their coats, any insignia. Anything unusual."

Charlie gritted her teeth, trying to focus, forcing the vision to obey her, but like a dream the more she grasped the more it slipped away. "I'm losing it!"

"Relax, you gotta just-"

For a moment she returned to the apartment. "Don't you fucking tell me to relax. I was getting torn apart on a slab in a tiny little lab. I couldn't-"

Again her vision warped and twisted, coalescing this time with scents of sweat and blood, clean mats on the floor, polyfibre training uniforms, none of the metal of her arm. She was in an enclosed room, bigger then the last. Tthe door matched the wall and ceiling, invisible until opened. The floor was a little softer then the concrete and a 'skylight' with tinted glass overlooked the floor from above. Four people stood near her, one was a young scientist, another a martial artist of some kind, and the third a powerful looking young elf. Alpha.

The scientist was speaking to the window above, his accent was thick. "As you can see in my report, the female subject does not possess the desired qualities. However, with the use of magic to control her and endurance boosting bioware, she becomes a prime tool for training the other subjects."

The martial artist gave a sign and Alpha attacked. He was strong and fast, more than she was. He moved with grace and precision, finding weaknesses in her defenses and leaving cuts and bruises. He quickly drove her back across the mat.

"Charlie! Hey, come back a little. You're in the apartment, can you hear me?" Silk cut into her thoughts. For a moment he was both of them, Alpha and Silk, standing before her. Instinctively, she tried to swing at Alpha, but as he faded from her view she fell into the coffee table, overbalanced by the lack of a right arm. If she'd still had it, Silk would've been down right then.

Silk knelt next to her. "What did you see?"

"Training fights. They used me for the others to practice on."Charlie tried to haul herself up, falling as she again forgot she had removed her arm. Maneuvering without it was difficult.

She returned to the couch with a little help and chugged her beer as the room swam and melted before her eyes. Silk went to the kitchen to get her another and she leaned her head back and relaxed in the cool air on her skin.

The tank had been safe. Nothing bad had happened when she was in the tank. It was when they took her out that things always ended up hurting. The surgeries and the fights, knowing that she was different. That nobody cared about her, they only wanted the others.

"They only wanted the others!" She sat up so fast she almost fell off the couch again.

Then she was back in the room. This time, there were two of them. Faster, stronger, merciless. The Master instructed them. He pointed out moves, her soft spots, how they could hurt her more and faster. His voice was strange, different words for the same thing. Then they were gone, it was just her and the Master. His grin was predatory as he moved towards her.

"Charlie, what… you might want to come back a little." Silk looked concerned and extremely uncomfortable. Charlie looked down and saw her hand half way in her pants.

She withdrew her hand, her vision cut into pieces as she looked around for another beer. "Think I had a thing with the martial arts teacher. Always was into powerful men. Hell, maybe he started it."

"Ok, so, can we push on? I mean— uh…"

Charlie ignored his awkward mumbling. She nodded and promptly zoned out, staring at the smog-filtered moonlight pouring like waves through the blankets she'd set up as curtains. As he continued, she pulled the curtain down and the room was filled with light, washing in slow motion across everything. It was as though some primal force had entered her apartment, touching everything. She needed to be closer to it.

"…you got all that?" asked Silk.

"No. We're going to the roof," she replied, turning and making for the door.

"What?! No, that's not a good idea. You're safer here." Despite his words, he got up and followed her.

"Nobody is ever safe. Bring the rest of the beer." Charlie opened the door and took in the hallway. It swam and pulsed with life. She could smell rats in the walls, the other tenants drinking or smoking or eating dinner. Someone on the first floor was engaged in rigorous activity, maybe working out… or having sex. Smelled like sex.

The world slowed as she half-consciously tripped her new wired reflexes. They weren't the most advanced set, but Tate's work was good, less invasive and high quality. It had still sucked getting them put it, way more then the pain editor, but as the twisting cracks in her vision seemed to slow she was glad she'd gotten them.

"Chharliee, Waiit." Silk had the plastic bin full of beer and looked thoroughly unhappy as he followed her up the switchback stairs towards the roof. "We shouuld stay insside, thiis is- MOTHERFUCKER!"

Charlie turned to see Silk, with a bloody cut on his forehead, throwing one of the beers at Larry, who appeared to be holding chunks of concrete the size fists. The beer missed him narrowly, smashing against the wall and splashing beer all over the landing. As Larry prepared to return fire with another rock, Charliestepped lightly up the twenty steps between them and grabbed his arm.

"Quit it Lar, he's not a bug."

"Yes he is, dammit!" responded Larry in his CAS drawl.

Charlie turned and watched Silk sprout a pair of mandibles and bug eyes. "Holy shit, you're right. So why are you throwing rocks?"

"Don't give me that, these are grenades!"

"In the stairwell?! Are you crazy?"

"I gotta protect this place! He's in league with them devil worshipers, them toxic fraggers, and Houdini witchdoctors. It's all a conspiracy. And I ain't crazy!" He adjusted his tinfoil hat, scratched some week old food from his beard and adjusted his hubcap covered poncho before calling Silk a fascist and retreating to his apartment.

Silk joined her on the landing, his bug-like features receding. "I fuckin hate that guy. C'mon, we've come this far." He led the rest of the way to the roof.

They made it without any further difficulty. Popping open more beers, they sat in the moonlight, watching the clouds drift and form shapes against the full moon. To Charlie, each shape was important, essential to her understanding of the world. A dragon shifted into a horse into a bullet into turtles into a women into— she lost track as her mind wondered back. The scent of smog filled her mind and she was in the swamp.

Somewhere, very close by, was a wendigo they called the Foul One. Charlie had been hunting it ever since she had encountered it while working for Lothan. She'd had it dead to rights but she hadn't known to go for the head. So now she was in the swamp, ghillied up, rifle trained on the hole where she was pretty sure it was hiding. Sure enough to bet money, but maybe not her life.

"Where did you go?" asked Silk.

"The swamp, hunting the wendigo."

"Did you get it?"

"Not yet."

Again silence.

"So, do you want to try and get back again? See if we can figure out who made you?"

"I made me," corrected Charlie, for once devoid of aggression. "They just put me together."

"I think we should try and get to your time in the tank, you were talking like it was pretty relaxed, maybe it'll be easier to stay in something that isn't painful. I know I try to avoid pain."

"I don't, but we can try. It didn't have much of a scent when I was in it, just try some solvents or something."

As Silk fiddled with his commlink to find the right smells, the clouds became a massive face. A lion, or maybe a bear, its teeth bared and the smog giving it a jade green hue. Then the smells hit and she was whipped back through her mind.

First she was on another run, the scent of clinics blending so many searches and most recently a battle with the Shedim in Seattle. Her mind drifted to the fight with the Master, a pitched conflict and a hell of a finish. Then she whipped through time again, living in the Sprawl, always something leaking fluid, always a pipe to be fixed. Then again, this time she was thrown into a nasty brawl. She fought alone against a dozen gangers and their leader. He was the source of the smell.

She dodged and twisted against their attacks as they came at her with swords and clubs. She crushed throats, shattered knees, and sent them spinning away yet still the others came on until only the tall fellow, who'd watch the whole thing, remained able to fight.

"COME ON!" She shouted, eager for more bloodshed. The man raised a hand and even as Charlie moved to launch herself into him a wave of acid exploded forth, knocking her to the ground. She struggled up quickly but he caught her right hand and shoulder as she swung at him.

"You were never meant to get out of the lab little bitch." His tone was almost affectionate, the accent familiar, from the south… far to the south. "Now that you've been contaminated, we have no further use for you." With that he summoned acid into his hands and dissolved her shoulder, burning her back. The last thing she saw, or would ever see with her own eyes, was a sword slashing towards her face.

She spun in darkness, creatures attacking her. She was torn apart by beast and put back together by monsters only to be torn apart again. She was nothing. Her life was meaningless and she would die badly. She—

There was a smell… the scent of a flower. The scent of jasmine.

"I think she's coming around." The voice was feminine, with a slight Middle Eastern accent.

"Charlie, I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to call." That was Silk.

She opened her eyes to see Silk and Jazz kneeling on either side of her. She could taste blood, her own she suspected, and her whole body hurt. From the smell of sweat, she would have guessed she'd run a marathon.

"What happened?" she asked, her vision clearing.

Silk responded slowly as Jazz stood and moved a few steps back. "You were having some kind of fit, tearing at everything, screaming and… I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't get near you, I had to hide or you'd hit me. You did a couple times but… What did you see?"

Charlie dropped her head back and stared at the moon for a moment as things clicked into place. Hispanic accents, illegal research, not cyber-focused, advanced AAA, a toxic shaman in the cleanup crew. The jade lion head.

"Aztechnology." She said quietly, struggling to sit up.

"Are you sure?" Silk pressed, but her answer was cut off by Jazzthrowing her some clothes.

"Might want to put these on," she said, a hint of judgement slipping out. Charlie looked down, she was totally naked, pieces of her pants and shirt were strewn across the roof. She did as she was bid and threw on the pants and shirt, the set almost comically large on her.

"You trying to say something about my weight?" Charlie sneered, her inner bitch stirring at the presence of her top competitor for work in Chicago.

"Silk picked them out," the tawny elf responded evenly, arms crossed.

Charlie turned to him, knowing on some level that her dark look was muted slightly by black sweatpants and a Matt Wrath Hoodie. He threw up his hands, a half-hearted defense.

She returned her attention to Jazz, "You listened to him? Very clever. Clearly they are perfect."

"You can take them off if you don't want them."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you."

"No." The elf's eyes rolled slightly, almost imperceptibly, the only disturbance in her carefully maintained composure. "Believe it or not, seeing your tits isn't the high point of my evening. Neither is getting called at 4am by a frantic, drunken… co-worker… to come subdue a rampaging maniac before she starts killing everything in the CZ."

They all stood in silence for a moment, Charlie looked at her feet, then the damage she'd done to the roof, over to Silk. To anything but Jazz.

Jazz sucked her teeth, then turned to leave.

"Wait," Charlie said. She felt bad and ashamed and more then a little pissed that her worthy rival had seen her like this, but Jazzhad come to help and if she hadn't been wearing that stupid perfume, it was likely as not that Charlie would still be losing her shit all over the building. Still, for all of that, she couldn't manage an apology

Instead, she asked, "Do you want a beer?" It sounded less lame then she felt.

"Got anything stronger?" the other women replied.

"Yeah," added Silk, "cause we need it after this."


	3. Monsters

"I stood at the bottom of a ravine so deep the top was lost in clouds. Ahead a thousand battles, dead enemies, dead friends, a slow death. Death by inches until someone gets lucky with a bullet, by then I'll want it.

Behind me, a hand on my shoulder, a creature of pure rage and hatred. It's thirst for destruction would draw it on down the ravine forever. It sees the killing fields of the future and salivates, excited in every grotesque way.

It will keep me safe if i say it can eat the death. It will make a mountain of bodies from which I shall see all comers and strike with impunity.

This is the path I've always walked, tallest by being the only one left standing."

Charlie opens her eye's on the interior of a VTOL. Silk is out and snoring a little on the only cot in their confined section of the transport.

She rolls onto her back to stare at the ceiling as the VTOL shifts to decent mode for a landing.

'Time to find my folks'

'Junk-it Junction'

The sign said everything that needed saying. The crossroads of a dozen shipping routes, located centrally between four of the major settlements in the Barrens, home to a stable economy of whatever. Lots of junk, a few gems, lots of old hookers, a few young stars, lots of locals, a few tourists out to see the 'the way these people live' lots of guns, a few who knew how to use them.

Silk stuck out as usual, but with Charlie walking with him the pickpockets kept a reasonable distance. Not that they really needed to worry, Had only been a few decades since Charlie had been one of them, and she wasn't going to shed tears or break fingers over Silk losing a few hundred cred. Honestly, she liked it when he lost money; the thing he cared about most on the world and it constantly slipped away bit by bit.

Sure she'd help him get more, if heads needed knocking he could count on her help, just as she counted on his for chatting people up and learning useful things. For example…

"This is the place." He said, stopping in front of a bus and trainer, held together with scrap metal and adorned with a sign declaring proudly 'Waldo's Wonders! Best quality tech salvage in the world!'

"Looks like a shit hole." Said Charlie past her smoke.

"According to my girls this place has sold a number of old Aztech devices in the past few years, any of which could be from a cloning and training facility. If this guy doesn't know where the base is, he may know who does."

"Ya'know, I have a hard time believing you know any Sprawl hookers who wouldn't lie for money."

"Let's just check it out, ok?"

Charlie smiled a little, sassing Silk never got old.

The place was cleaner and bigger then one might expect, with gold sunlight piercing through holes in the cieling illuminating the dust in the air. Most interior features had been removed in place of boxes full of old parts stacked to the ceiling, a couple functional devices that looked way to expensive to be in the Barrens. Still, the place was cramped, clearly having had too much jammed in, the isles were narrow and one had to enter a fair ways to see the counter where a very old looking ork sat tinkering with some mechanical device.

He looked up and smiled over a pair of glasses "Welcome to Waldo's Wonders! What can i get for you fine folk?"

Charlie got the impression he usually made a sales pitch at this point, but since they were hardly stereotypical customers he probably wasn't sure what to offer them.

Silk approached the counter and made with his usual dancing around the subject "Oh, you know, just here to look around, I've heard this place is-"

Charlie interrupted him, impatient as usual "We're looking for anything from the old Aztech facility that operates around here. We heard you might have something."

"Why do I even bother?" Muttered Silk.

The ork looked at her for a moment, almost too long, before saying "You'll want to talk to Waldo, the owner, he's out back with the new scrap. Probably under it." and he let out a laugh.

Silk stayed paused as Charlie went out back "So you just work here, is that right?"

"Yup." replied the man "Been here for a couple years now, working on the salvage."

"Is that right? I thought this place was just some upstart trading post, but you say it's been open-"

The man cut in "Waldo's is one of the oldest businesses in the area, open for three generations and- oh. Crap."

Silk smiled and went for his pistol, but the ork hit a button and flash-pack went off.

Charlie went out the back to where a crashed VTOL and a couple trucks sat in states of disrepair, clearly in the process of being stripped for parts. She was about to look through them when a text from silk and the sound of a door slamming coincided to tell her Waldo was the man inside, and now he was getting away.

She turned and bolted through the yard, following the ARO silk dropped onto her HUD. He was fast, but she caught sight of him as she ran up one of the wrecks and over another shops roof, almost falling through at the thin metal creaked and gave.

Hitting the street at a run she dashed around corners, pushing through the crowd as Waldo ran though stalls and buildings. As he turned through an ancient apartment Charlie veered around to cut him off, dog-running through a window and landing before the old Ork, in the midst of a couple gangers.

"Get her!" Yelled Waldo as their eyes met. One of the gangers came at her with a strong right hook, but she spun and struck his flesh and bone with hardened titanium, the resulting crunch was audible.

The other ganers stepped back as Charlie grabbed Waldo by the throat "Now, about my questions."

Waldo landed heavily on the floor of his shop. He'd put up resistance at first but stopped quickly enough once he realized where they were going. Silk had locked the place down when she arrived, shutters in place and the front door barricaded. Quick thinking.

Charlie stood over the Ork and lit a cigarette. "The Aztech lab. Talk."

Waldo nodded, looking annoyed but resigned to the situation, it was clear he'd been shaken down before, they all knew how this worked.

"Fine, but I'm telling my story from down here." Waldo stood and walked to one of the mounds of stuff, so densely packed that it's center was obscured and began moving boxes and crates.

"When I was just a boy my father, the second Waldo, owned this place and ran it well. He had a keen mind for business and was kind to those who needed aid, using his talents as a cyberdoc to help out around town.

He was always collecting for this place of course, as had his father before him. Three generation worth of collection, I guess sooner or later we were bound to find something dangerous."

Silk spoke up "That's great and all, but what does this have to do with Aztech?"

Waldo put down a box and turned "Tell you what, why don't we let strong arm here move boxes and I'll get to the good part?"

Charlie shrugged and began digging through the pile.

Waldo sat behind his counter and sipped some coffee before going on "It was late in the evening, hot summer night, much like this one actually, when a troupe of thieves came in. They weren't here to steal form us, they mostly picked the pockets of tourists and travelers who looked like they wouldn't pull a gun."

As Charlie moved another box an old blue blanket came into view, draped over some single item as tall as a troll and almost as wide. She kept digging.

"One of theirs was had some old 'ware, decked to the nines with augs, but all of it second hand, gave the poor kid nasty growing pains as the non-organic grew slower then the organic."

Charlie remembered what that had been like for her, hurt a lot, guessed it was the same for most kids. What was under that blanket?

"My old man was putting this kid right, gave her drugs to help with the pain and ease the growing, then one of the other kids dragged her over to a pile of old tech and showed her something.

Charlie quickened her pace, whatever was under that blanket, she had to see it. What was it? Why was her heart pounding?

"Kid lost it, started scream, hitting everything, her friends, other costumers, even my father. Nothing would calm her down, she just fought, flailing like an animal, like some beast-"

Charlie knocked aside the last boxes and gripped the cloth, her heart pounding and her head spinning as she pulled it down to reveal a missive clear cylinder, big enough for a person for fit inside with a hole in one side. At the top was a designation. Charlie.

"Like a monster."

A dull pain in her head brought her back to reality to find Waldo on the floor, her cyberarm pinning him down by the throat. The second blow to the head got her up and she whirled swinging hard at her attacker and barely pulling the punch as sight and smell confirmed it was Silk who'd hit her, apparently with a hammer.

He swung again but Charlie caught him attack with her off hand and almost gently planted her palm into his chest so he stumbled back a step, leaving her with the hammer.

For a moment they stood in silence, then Waldo began laughing through the blood in his lungs.

"Still, uhg, still a monster I see. Hehe, guess that'll have to do."

Charlie turned to him, avoiding the massive tube that had once been her home, her cell, and the womb where she'd been grown.

Waldo continued, dragging himself into a sitting position "I've spent most of my life, and every night, dreaming of revenge. At first I wanted to be a Shadowrunner, hunt you down and kill you. But, OWhhggrr, but duty called and this place needed me. Still, I held out hope that one day I'd get to avenge my father. Now here we are, you and me, and I'm dying just like he did. Hardly seems fair."

Charlie watched wordlessly. Her mind was a jumbled haze of memories and emotions, she honestly wasn't sure what she could say to this man, or what she should do. Should she put him out of his misery? would that make her the monster he claimed? Was she already?

"You came to my store looking for, uurg, answers. Give me one and I'll tell you what you want to know. Deal?"

Charlie was frozen for a moment until Silk started to speak, then she nodded.

Waldo looked her in the eye, the sum of a life well lived clear in his pained face "Why did you spare me? Everyone else died, even your ganger friends, but not me. You looked me in the eye, my fathers blood in your teeth and let me be. I want to know why."

Charlie answered without knowing her own words "I don't hurt kids. Children aren't responsible for their actions the way the rest of us are, you lived because of that."

Waldo laughed again, this time his every grimace carried with it a tone of mirth, as if he knew something terrible that only he found funny.

"My old man bought the tank off a trader with the BCEP, Black Caravan Explorers Company, dissolved a few years ago but their might be a few who remember out in Iron-town. Now, if their will be nothing else."

Charlie and silk turned to leave, but after barely more then a step, Charlie turned "Thanks."

Waldo glared at her with that knowing smile "I hope you find what your looking for kid, and I hope it destroys you."

Silk pulled a face as he tried to eat the soup they'd bought. It was mostly old meat and whatever green they had saying around, tasted like ass and paste but nutritious enough and the only thing for sale.

Charlie had barely spoken since they'd left Waldo bleeding out on the floor. Silk had asked a few questions but she'd ignored him until now "What's our next move? We going to check out the Irontown? I might know someone who works their. Maybe they can help."

Charlie nodded.

"Great!" Said Silk, sounding a little to happy "I'll give her a call and we can-"

His sudden silence caught Charlies instincts and she looked up to see a confused look in his face and his eye's set over her shoulder.

Time slowed as she turned, noting everything. People scared, moving out of the way, the smell of blood and metal, and the uniforms of the gangers she'd fought earlier.

She hadn't recognized them then, but these where the Hounds, what passed for local security. They weren't big on prisoners.

Charlie dove sideways out of her seat as bullets tore through the table where she'd been. Silk jumped the other way and pulled out a pistol to return fire. Charlie pulled her Lever-action off her back and returned fire, at last getting a good head-count. Twenty-seven. Not good.

She rolled and ran for better cover, bullets everywhere, a few finding their mark. Her pain editor kept her focused, but a glance told her she'd be bruised. She was trapped and Silk was pinned. Then something touched her shoulder. It was a dark clawed hand, that of a monster that didn't frighten her. It told her of victory that it could bring. It told of a river of blood leading to true safety and peace, and as it took over her limbs, her mind, her strength and drove her into the enemy with unstoppable force, the monster sang.


End file.
